


Promise

by Riverwillows73



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Civil War, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Complete, Crossdressing, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Maryland circa 1861, One Shot, Romance, Rural Southern Alabama circa 1865
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverwillows73/pseuds/Riverwillows73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as part of a challenge on the kittenboard. AU setting during and after the Civil War, it ends in Alabama. Running away to fight in the Union Army Willow "Will" Rosenberg makes an unexpected friend and a promise. At the end of the war she journeys to make good on that promise to her fallen friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: PG
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The standard disclaimer applies. I don’t own it, please don’t sue, I just want to treat them better than Joss Whedon, ME, UPN and the WB did.
> 
> FEEDBACK: Yes please
> 
>  
> 
> _Author’s Notes : Wow, ok, this turned out to A LOT longer than I thought it would be when I started it. Not quite sure how that happened, so I’m just as surprised as you are. There's no beta so if there's anything glaringly wrong PM me so I can fix it. I hope you enjoy!_
> 
>  
> 
> _** The dates of the battles/locations, surrender, and regiments are real. I grew up in Maryland and Assateague Island is real, and is famous for its "wild" horses and as I kid on school camping trips I got to see the horses run. I've never ridden a horse or been close to one, but the sight of them running is breathtaking. Just thought I'd throw that out there too.**_

Sitting down under the shade of the large oak tree, Willow closed her eyes and rested her head back against the bark. She was weary, bone weary, soul weary. As her mind started to drift, she could smell the gun powder; hear the canons roar and the screams of men dying in pain. Her feet hurt, she was dirty, hungry and thirsty, and it felt like she had been walking for years.

 

In all actuality, she had. When the war started everyone said it would be over in a week. Four years later it was finally over, but hundreds of thousands of young men had died on both sides – North and South – even the nation's President had been killed – and it still really solved nothing.

 

In the spring of 1862, seventeen year old Willow Rosenberg never imagined that when she had volunteered to work in the make shift infirmary tending to the wounded she would end up here, wherever here was. She thought she was just doing her part to help the soldiers. 

 

But she got swept away into the middle of it all, the fervor and excitement; the war had been going for almost two years then, and she knew she could do more than just nursing. She had watched young men come and go for months, and finally made up her mind to do something more.

 

Willow pieced together a uniform from the cleanest ones that had been removed from the soldiers in the infirmary. She took her time, taking the pieces home to clean, mend and tailor to fit properly. Once her uniform was ready, Willow stood in front of her bathroom mirror and cut her hair. 

 

As her long auburn locks fell away, so did “Willow”. From what she learned talking with the wounded, it would be easier to join the infantry; she could just “appear”. With her shorn locks and slight build, Willow looked like nothing more than a sweet faced boy. So Private “Will” Rosenberg was born, and was enlisted as part of the 6th Regiment Union Infantry of Maryland.

 

In November of 1863, Willow’s regiment was at the Battle of Chattanooga. There she met another boy on the verge of manhood, Donny Maclay, only a little older than herself, from Alabama. He was a messenger from the 1st Union Regiment Calvary of Alabama, and somehow he never went back to his own regiment. 

 

They met when he was almost run down by a horse that had thrown its rider and took off through the camp. She tackled him, pushing them both safely out of the horses’ path of flight.

 

By sight, they were an odd pair, but they managed to look out for one another. He told her of how he had left his mother and sister on a small farm outside of Birmingham when he had joined in 1861. He said he had left on Saint Patrick’s Day, swearing to them both he would be home again in a fortnight. 

 

They kept each other safe and together until the regiment ended up at the Battle of Selma on April 2nd of 1865; Donny talked of home with a deep longing in his voice. How he missed it, how he knew he was close to home, and how he was so very tired of fighting. During the last skirmishes volley of canon fire from the Confederate side, Willow and Donny were running with more powder for the canons when he was hit by shrapnel.

 

Donny died in Willow’s arms. 

 

Richmond, the last stronghold of the Confederacy fell the next day. Seven days later on April 9th, 1865, General Robert E. Lee surrendered on the steps of Appomattox Court House in Maryland to General Ulysses S. Grant effectively ending the South's attempt at succession. 

 

The war that pit brother against brother, friend against friend, had finally come to its bloody and devastating end.

 

Willow had made a promise. A promise to take a letter, and a locket back to his mother and sister. A promise to a brave dying boy to help them if she could, a promise she meant to keep. She had traveled further towards Birmingham with her regiment, and when news came of the surrender the regiment was in Fairfield, Alabama, and so Willow simply walked away. 

 

Willow began to make her way to Ensley, Alabama, Donny’s hometown. Her uniform didn’t make her very welcome with most that she came across, but some would lend her a ride and sometimes some food if they had any to spare. Often it was just her and a lonesome tumbleweed for company along the way.

 

The war had not been kind to most of the South, and many were living hand to mouth. At the last little way stop she had been in, she had managed to find out that the Maclay’s had a small farm about a day and half’s walk from where she was. So Willow set out in the hopes of making the journey and arriving just around sunset the next day.

 

With a weary sigh, Willow pushed up from the tree and out from under its shade. Picking up her pace and whistling off key Willow continued onward. Just as she planned, shortly after the sun had set and in the early grey of twilight, she approached a small farm set on a hill. Shifting the small pack of her belongings as she made her way up the hill hoping this indeed was her destination.

 

As she approached the porch, she could see a figure waiting on the steps. As she approached, she saw a girl with dirty blonde hair and a shotgun waiting for her looking none too happy to see a stranger in a union uniform.

 

“Stop where you are stranger,” the girl said raising the gun a little in warning.

 

Willow looked up at her with raised hands to try and show she meant no harm. “Is this the Maclay Farm?” she asked hopefully.

 

The girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at Willow. “Yes,” she replied tersely.

 

Willow sighed heavily assuming the girl was Tara, and said, “You must be Tara. Donny sent me.”

 

The girl gasped, and her lower lip trembled from a moment; it was obvious that if someone came instead of Donny, he wouldn’t be coming home. Looking Willow over and lifting her chin stubbornly, she lowered the shotgun. With a curt nod of her head, she turned on her heel and walked back into the house. Willow took this as a sign to follow her inside.

 

Willow stood in the doorway and looked around. The house was not huge, although it was by no means a shack, and Willow stood in a foyer; to her left looked to be a sitting room, and to her right a hallway leading further back into the house. The smell of food led her down the hallway. She passed by a door that was closed before she entered the kitchen.

 

Willow found Tara with her back to her stirring something in a pot on the stove. A scarred table sat further in, surrounded by four chairs off to the right of another doorway. Willow stood in the entrance unsure of what to do next. Shifting her pack, she cleared her throat to make her presence known.

 

Tara looked over her shoulder, and spoke softly with a sweet southern lilt. “Come in, have a seat.”

 

“Thank you,” Willow said walking through to the table sitting down heavily and dropping her pack to the floor.

 

“Are you hungry?” Tara asked without looking at her, staring intently into the pot she stirred.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Willow replied. “Whatever that is smells delicious.”

 

A ghost of a smile played briefly over Tara’s lips. “Rabbit stew,” said barely above a whisper. 

 

Tara turned away, rubbing quickly at the tears in her eyes. She pulled two bowls, one a bit larger than the other down from a cupboard next to a sink, and ladled the stew into them. She set the larger one down in front of Willow, and the other at the far end of the table. She then produced a small loaf of bread, cutting pieces for them both.

 

Willow ate rapidly, using the bread to sop up the broth leaving nothing behind. She finally looked up and smiled ruefully as she patted her stomach, leaning back in the chair. She watched Tara eat slowly, never looking up at her.

 

Deciding to break the silence, Willow finally spoke. “That’s the best meal I’ve had in years, quite literally. Thank you so much, ma'am.”

 

Tara’s eye’s flickered up to look at Willow, and she could see that tears had gathered in her vivid blue eyes. Tara put her spoon down, brushing her hand hastily against her eyes again trying to keep her tears in check.

 

“Tell me what happened, please,” she asked sadly.

 

Willow cleared her throat again and picked up her pack. She took out the letter from Donny and the locket, handling them like the precious things they were. She stood and approached Tara, laying them carefully in front of her before she sat back down again.

 

Tara picked up the locket, slowly closing her hand around it; her chin trembled furiously, her tears finally spilling over to run quickly down her cheeks. It was the locket her mother gave Donny when he left. Willow licked her lips and began to talk in a low steady voice.

 

Willow told of how she met Donny, and what the following years had been like for them. Finally, she told Tara how her brave brother had died, choking up more than once. Especially when she spoke of the promise she had made to the dying boy, her head bowed, staring at her hands as she spoke of it.

 

Willow had spoken for quite some time, and when she was done, she sniffled and rubbed her eyes against the dirty cuff of her coat. Looking up she saw that Tara was just looking at her, her cheeks no longer wet with tears. There was a gleam of pride in her eyes, as she had heard how courageously Donny had lived his last few years of life.

 

“I don’t even know your name,” Tara said.

 

“Sergeant Will Rosenberg at your service, ma’am,” Willow said sitting up straighter, her chest puffing with pride.

 

Tara cocked her head to the side, looking carefully at Willow again. “What’s your real name, Will?”

 

Willow blinked rapidly in surprise, trying to decide if she should tell her the truth. She had lived for so many years now as “Will” that “Willow” felt like a distant memory. No one had ever asked her this before, and she smiled sadly with a nod.

 

“Willow…Willow Rosenberg,” she said as she held Tara’s gaze.

 

"Did Donny know? Were you and he...were you sweethearts?" Tara asked softly.

 

"Sweethearts? No! No, I never told him, and if he knew, well Donny never said anything," Willow answered honestly.

 

Tara just nodded. “I imagine you would like a bath and a bed, yes?”

 

“That would be mighty kind of you, I'd be much obliged,” Willow said with a big smile. “I feel like I know you and your mother already from listening to all of Donny’s stories. If you’ll pardon my asking, where’s your mother?” 

 

Tara’s face darkened. “It’s just me here now, Willow. Ma passed two years back,” Tara said offering no further explanation. 

 

“Oh, Tara. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Donny didn’t know.” Willow said softly as she blushed with embarrassment at her unwitting callousness. 

 

Tara just shook her head, brushing Willow’s words off. “Let’s get you that bath.”

 

Willow helped Tara carry water to the stove to heat from the pump outside the back door. Tara led Willow to a bedroom off from the kitchen and down another hall that she could see wrapped around and led back to the sitting room. They had dragged a copper tub out and for Willow to use; once it was filled Tara left Willow alone to bathe.

 

Sometime later there came a knock at the door startling Willow, who had almost fallen asleep in the hot water that had now grown almost cold. She sat up a little in the tub a little disoriented.

 

“Yes?” she said loudly.

 

“I have some clothes and a towel for you, Willow,” Tara called through the door. “I’ll just leave them outside the door for you. It’s late, so I’ll leave you to your rest, goodnight.”

 

Willow heard Tara’s footsteps move away from the door, and rising slowly from the tub she carefully got out. Padding over to the door, dripping water along the way, she carefully opened it just enough to grab the towel and clothes. 

 

Willow quickly dried off; pulling the night shirt from the bundle of clothing Tara had left her. Willow had been fortunate, managing to avoid both dysentery and lice that were a common plague among soldiers due to less than ideal hygiene and food supplies.

 

Willow didn’t waste time before pulling back the sheets on the bed and climbing in. For the first time in three years Willow had a real pillow and a real bed to lie down in. It was only a matter of minutes before she was sound asleep.

 

******

 

Willow was pulled from her slumber by knocking at her door. She blinked rapidly and stretched before answering. The knocking came again and she sat up in bed, stretching and yawning.

 

“Come in,” she said sleepily.

 

Tara opened the door and smiled at the sight of Willow rubbing her eyes, hair sticking up every which way. She leaned against the door frame and waited for Willow to focus on her.

 

"How did they ever not know you were a girl?" Tara asked more to herself than Willow.

 

"They knew what they wanted to know, and ultimately they needed me," Willow responded seriously.

 

“Yes, I guess so. Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry,” she said.

 

Willow nodded and stretched again. “What time is it?”

 

“Half past eight,” Tara said. “The clothes I left you may not be an exact fit, but they should do for now.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, Tara, thank you,” Willow said softly.

 

With a nod Tara left, closing the door behind her. Willow swung her legs to the floor, feeling more human than she had in a long time. Wiggling her toes against the sun warmed floorboards, she smiled as her stomach began to gurgle, reminding her she needed to get a move on. Dressing quickly she made her way back into the kitchen. The scent of fresh baked biscuits met her as she entered, making her stomach once again rumbled loudly in anticipation.

 

Tara turned with a smile. “Sounds like I woke you just in time.”

 

Willow blushed as she smiled back. “Can I help with anything?”

 

“No, just tell me how you like your eggs,” Tara said.

 

“Sunny side up, I like to watch them wiggle,” Willow replied with a big grin.

 

Tara giggled. “Sassy eggs. Sassy side up it is.”

 

The girls ate in a comfortable silence, and when they both were done Willow took Tara’s plate to the sink and washed them both. Drying her hands on a dish towel she sat back down at the table.

 

“Tara, under the circumstances I’d like to ask you if you would like me to stay and help you out around here. I know I made a promise, but knowing you are here alone, well, it just doesn’t seem right to leave you this way and it just doesn't sit well with me. I don’t know a lot about farming, but I can learn,” Willow said truthfully.

 

Tara studied Willow like she had last night before asking her real name then replied, “I think I’d like that, Will.”

 

*****

 

The time seemed to slip by in the blink of an eye. As the months eased by them, Willow and Tara had fallen into a routine. They worked the farm side by side, and when the crops were ready they took the wagon into Birmingham to sell what they had grown and couldn’t eat themselves.

 

Tara had pulled out more of Donny’s old clothes and altered them to fit Willow. She even cut Willow’s hair to keep it short and neat. When they went into town, Willow was introduced as Tara’s “Cousin Will” from up North. If anyone questioned it, they never said anything directly, and as they girls kept to themselves the issue was never pushed by the townsfolk.

 

One night in midsummer, Tara tapped on Willow’s door. This started a new ritual between them; either Tara would go to Willow’s room or Willow would come to hers at night. They would lie on the bed and talk, or read to each other from the little library that Tara had until they fell asleep. 

 

Willow would tell Tara stories of her childhood; of crabbing in the Chesapeake Bay, or going down the Maryland shore to watch the horses run in the spring on Assateague Island with her father before he died. How the wild horses scared her – they shared everything. Willow even held Tara while she finally cried over the loss of mother and brother, told her the door that always stayed closed was the door to her mother's room and what was now Willow's room had been Donny's.

 

As fall drew near Willow found out that Tara’s birthday was coming in just a few weeks in October. She managed to slip away during one of their trips to town. She went to the general store and purchased two books, one was the latest adventure tale of life out west in California, and the other a book by Charles Dickens called David Copperfield. She was sure Tara would love them both, and she asked that they be wrapped as gifts.

 

Over the last six months the two had grown so close, and Willow had come to realize that she loved Tara. As she stood bouncing on the balls of her feet waiting impatiently for the books to be wrapped, it hit her just how much she loved Tara and that she had to tell the girl. 

 

She knew this would change everything, and could possibly destroy their friendship; but she had never had anyone that shared her bed nightly, to wake up in their arms happy and content. Someone that she shared affectionate touches, and sweet terms of endearment with. That her world seemed to revolve around, that she would protect with her life in she had to. Willow didn’t think she was alone in her feelings, and was ready to trust her heart.

 

Willow even managed to get Mrs. Summers, the wife of Jim Summers who ran the General Store to bake a cake for her, and even sneak it out to the farm on the morning of Tara’s birthday. Willow woke early, having decided to make breakfast for Tara letting her sleep in for a change.

 

At half past nine Willow gently opened the door to Tara’s room. They had spent last night in her room, and Tara was sprawled out sideways across the bed taking up as much space as she could. Willow’s breath caught at the sight of Tara sleeping. Her full lips parted slightly, her porcelain skin in contrasted to her dirty blonde hair. She carefully set the tray down on the night stand next to the bed, sitting down next to Tara.

 

The neck of Tara’s night gown was open at the throat and Willow could see her pulse beat steadily in the divot at the base of her slender neck. Taking her hand and gently caressing Tara’s cheek, Willow began to wake her love.

 

“Tara, wake up, darling,” Willow said.

 

Tara mumbled sleepily as Willow continued to stroke her cheek. Tara caught her hand, bringing it to her lips and kissed the back of it. Then she opened her deep blue eyes to smile at the sight of Willow gazing adoringly down at her. Tara slipped her arm around Willow’s waist and pulled her down onto the bed with her.

 

Willow giggled. “Good morning, and happy birthday to you.”

 

“Mmm, thank you, love. You’re up early.” Tara said snuggling up to Willow.

 

“No, I let you sleep in. It’s half past nine birthday girl,” Willow answered as she nuzzled Tara’s neck. “I’ve made you breakfast.”

 

“Oh my,” Tara murmured and with a peck on Willow’s cheek she sat up to move back against the headboard.

 

Willow sat up too, reaching for the tray of food and carefully placing it over Tara’s lap. Looking pleased with herself, she began to name off the items waiting for Tara.

 

“We have eggs, toast with honey, sliced apples and tomatoes along with the last of the figs.” Willow said proudly.

 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Tara said.

 

“Well, I’m not great, and there are only a few things I can cook, but it was either learn or starve during the war, and I wasn’t about to starve.” Willow answered.

 

Tara began to eat and offered some of her food to Willow. They sat eating peacefully, gazing at one affectionately. When they had finished Willow rose to clear away the dishes.

 

Willow insisted that Tara enjoy the day and relax, while she took care of the major chores around the farm. As it got close to dinner Willow came in with a skinned rabbit. Once she de-boned the rabbit, and chopped vegetables she called Tara into the kitchen. 

 

“Tara, I was hoping you would show me how to make your wonderful stew and we could have that for supper tonight,” Willow said looking at Tara hopefully. “I think I have everything ready, I just need to know what to do with it.”

 

Tara smiled at Willow, and went into her arms to hug her. Willow held onto her tightly, enjoying the feeling of her pressed against her. Finally letting go of Willow, Tara began to move around the kitchen pulling things out and telling Willow what she was doing as she went along. In no time the stew was bubbling away merrily on the stove.

 

As Willow began to ladle the stew into bowls she warned Tara not to fill up on stew as she had a surprise for her after dinner. Tara looked at her suspiciously, with a raised eyebrow. Over supper Tara tried to cajole Willow into telling her what the surprise was but Willow stubbornly refused to tell. Once they had finished their stew, Willow led Tara into the sitting room and sat her down.

 

“Now close your eyes and I’ll be right back,” Willow promised.

 

Tara smiled and obediently closed her eyes. She listened to Willow moving around in the kitchen, and tried to figure out just what the girl was up to. She could hear the sounds of cutlery, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

 

Willow came in holding the books under her chin and the cake on a platter. Setting the cake down on an end table that had seen better days, she also set the books down next to her surprise birthday cake. Looking at Tara to make sure she wasn’t peaking, she reminded her to keep her eyes closed and it would only be a few minutes more.

 

Willow came back with plates, forks and a knife. Then very carefully she picked up the cake and turned to face Tara.

 

“You can open your eyes now,” Willow said softly.

 

Tara’s eyes lit up as she saw the cake before her. “Oh, Willow! How?” She knew Willow couldn’t have made it her as she had never smelled a cake baking.

 

Willow grinned goofily in pleasure at Tara’s pleasure. “I actually can’t bake, but I know Mrs. Summers can, so I asked her to bake you a cake. I even got her to bring it out here this morning. Happy birthday, darling,” she said.

 

Tara’s eyes began to brim with tears. “Oh, Willow, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

 

“There’s more,” she said setting the cake back down. She picked up the wrapped books and handed them to Tara. “Presents.”

 

Willow sat on the floor in front of Tara to watch her unwrap her gift. Once again Tara’s face seemed to light up with joy. She kneeled down on the floor throwing her arms around Willow’s neck, kissing her cheeks.

 

“Oh, Willow, thank you so much!” Tara said between kisses. “This is the best birthday I’ve had in such a long time.”

 

Willow’s smile was from ear to ear. “Then let’s have cake!” 

 

She jumped up, and with a grin she handed Tara the knife and the plates that had spoons resting on them. Then carefully once again picking up the cake and setting in front of Tara on the floor. 

 

“Go ahead, cut it for us.” Willow urged.

 

Tara cut two large pieces and maneuvered them swiftly onto the plates. Willow’s knee began to bounce as they sat eating their cake. Tara reached over and placed her hand on Willow’s knee to stop the movement, and looked at Willow closely.

 

“What’s wrong, Will?” she asked cautiously.

 

Willow set her plate down and turned to Tara looking deep into her eyes. She took Tara’s hand in hers gently and raised it to her mouth kissing it gently. 

 

Taking several deep breaths, Willow began to speak. “Tara, I have something to say to you, and it will change everything between us. There’s no way it cannot.”

 

Tara took her hand away and looked at Willow. “You want to leave, don't you?”

 

Willow looked at her in surprise. “What? Leave? No! I…I…Tara, I love you. I’m in love with you. I don’t ever want to leave you. It seems I took the long and winding road to get here, but here is where I belong. I belong with you, by your side...you’re my everything.” 

 

The love and hope was apparent on Willow’s face as she waited for Tara to say something. Tara closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her shoulders started to shake, and Willow began to fear the worst. 

 

Then Tara threw her head back and laughed. It was a full throaty sound full of love and joy. Tara looked at Willow and the confusion written so plainly on her face. Impulsively she grabbed Willow’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly.

 

“Oh, Will, I love you too! So much, but I never knew how to say anything. It never seemed to be the right time. This is wonderful!” Tara exclaimed.

 

Willow grinned broadly, and moving their plates and the cake out of the way lunged at Tara, knocking her to the floor. They lay on the floor kissing passionately, all the love they had held in check was finally able to be expressed.

 

Willow pulled back breathless, but continued to drop short, sweet kisses on Tara’s lips while they both panted for air. Tara rolled them over and renewed their passionate play between lips and tongues. Forced apart by the need for air, they rested their foreheads against one another as they trembled with delight.

 

“Good birthday?” Willow asked.

 

“Best birthday,” Tara replied holding Willow tightly basking in the glow of their love. 

 

The End.


End file.
